


Those Ghost Robot Frankenstein Things

by caynaise



Series: Bandori Rarepair Week 2019 [2]
Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, Movie Night, it’s not night but they pretend it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 23:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19344511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caynaise/pseuds/caynaise
Summary: Himari insists she can stomach a horror flick for Rimi’s sake. Rimi has her reservations, but who is she to say no?





	Those Ghost Robot Frankenstein Things

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bandori Rarepair Week, Day 2: Domestic!

It’s a beautiful Sunday. The sun is shining, a soft breeze sends a ripple through verdant leaves . . . and two girls have shut themselves inside and sit huddled on a couch with the blinds drawn and the curtains standing guard, arresting the attempted passage of every last sliver of daylight that dares to wander anywhere near the windows.

It’s dark. Not as good as the churchyards-yawning-at-midnight kind of dark, but close enough. There’s a limit to what one can do when she is beholden to the stifling schedule of a looming school day.

No such limits exist in the world of cinema. Well, home cinema, as it so happens to be. There _is_ a limit to what one can do when she has slipped and turned her wallet inside out for a few too many choco cornets in a week.

And so, it’s of even greater importance that no such limits exist in the world of home cinema. The screen might be a tad on the small side, but a little bit of effort goes a long way, as far as recreating the Authentic 21st Century Japanese Cinema Atmosphere is concerned.

It’s a shame that some people refuse to make that effort, and insist on watching a horror movie while basking in daylight. It’s the full experience or nothing, in Rimi’s opinion.

She’s a bit torn at the moment though. Himari has done nothing but agree with her so far, but her face is in rather obvious conflict with her words. Not just her face either—more like her entire body, squirming and rocking from side to side, the poor melonpan cushion in her arms being squeezed and warped beyond recognition.

“Himari-chan,” Rimi says for the third time, remote clutched uncertainly in her hand, finger hovering over the play button. Bowls of snacks sit at the ready on the coffee table. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Aww, don’t worry about me!” Himari chirps with an overlarge dose of zeal, also for the third time. “I’m super excited! I wanna see the ghosts and the ghouls and the zombies and the—the ghost zombies and ghost vampires . . . and ghost robot Frankenstein things . . .”

The doorbell rings and Himari squeals and leaps into the air, and Rimi doesn’t have time to jump before she’s suffocating in a tight embrace. From the hall floats her sister’s voice, telling them she’ll get the door.

Rimi resurfaces and picks up the fallen remote from the floor.

“Okay, I won’t pretend!” Himari says bravely, as if she’s actually tried at all to pretend. “I’m scared out of my mind and I might pee myself but—actually I should go pee now in case that happens.”

She gets off the couch and does exactly that.

“Okay, so where was I? Right, I’m scared out of my mind and I _won’t_ pee myself now but hey, this is your world, right? I wanna see it. I wanna know you better! You’re sweet and cute and have amazing taste in desserts but _this_? This is beyond cool. Rimi, Ghostbuster, Great Defender of Humanity, exorcising spirits with the sound of her trusted Viper. I can totally see it!”

Rimi blushes. “H-Himari-chan, we’re just watching a movie . . . there’s no way I can be all that. If anything, _your_ bass looks more like the ghost-fighting type.”

“Aw but that’s so predictable, no? Cute yet deadly, now _that’s_ something.”

They settle down into the comfortable depths of the couch and Rimi starts the movie. Two hours of long dark corridors and creaky stairs and the camera jumping and jittering, of chilling whispers and foreboding stretches of silence and loud noises when you most expect them, but almost soil the couch regardless.

Himari just holds on tight and screams for the entire duration of the ride. Poor Rimi gets her hair tugged this way and that, gets grabbed by the collar and the buttons on her blouse nearly torn clean off, and has to pause the movie halfway in and accompany Himari to the bathroom because despite Himari’s best efforts to ensure she would _not_ need to pee, pure liquid fear seemed to speedily fill her bladder instead.

It’s all quite exciting, really. Given the important task of sentry duty outside the bathroom door, her mind still half-immersed in the world of the movie, Rimi grips her weapon (the remote) and presses her back against the door, keeping a keen eye out for otherworldly intruders while Himari asks again and again if anything’s coming.

“It’s okay, Himari-chan.” Rimi holds the remote close to her mouth like a walkie-talkie, heart pounding. “We’re safe here.”

The toilet flushes, Himari emerges with a grateful “Thank God for that!” and they embark on a stealth mission back to the living room.

Another hour of screaming and destroying the melonpan, and the good guys emerge victorious. Breathing a great sigh of relief and satisfaction, Rimi pulls the curtains apart and lets light into the house at long last.

“Oh Rimi!” Himari wails, launching her soft, cushiony self across the couch and latching onto her newfound protector. “All this time!” she sobs. “All this time I was wasting away waiting for my prince to sweep me off my feet, but all along . . . all along . . . i-it was you!”

 _She’s—She’s really crying . . ._ Rimi laughs, half concerned and half embarrassed, arms pinned to her sides by Himari’s surprisingly strong ones. Or maybe it’s not so surprising when she thinks about it—Himari’s in the tennis club, and tennis is a seriously muscle-building sport, after all. Her cheeks warm at the thought. Is Himari sure she’s the prince and not the other way around?

“H-Himari-chan,” she says weakly, voice a little constricted from how tightly she’s being held. “That’s—That’s not true. I’m no prince.”

Himari pouts, sniffling. “How can you say that? You’re so brave . . . so strong . . .”

“Not at all.” Rimi smiles, eyes cast downward. “I’m just a scared little girl who jumps at the sound of fireworks.”

“Ehh? Fireworks get me so pumped! Like all bang, woosh, glitter trailing across the sky! My urge to ‘Hey, hey, hoh’ becomes—I believe the term is feral.”

“Yeah . . . see? That’s what I mean.”

Himari’s face falls. It reminds Rimi of Tae’s rabbits when they’re sad, ears flopping back against their heads. “Oh no, I did it again! Stupid Himari. Never thinks before she speaks.”

“No, it’s okay!” Rimi hastens to assure her, holding up her hands.

“Hmm . . . maybe we can take turns then! I’ll protect you, Rimi.”

Rimi feels as if she might melt right into the sea of green in her eyes.

Himari giggles. “Ehehe~ me, a prince? Who would’ve thought?” She puffs up her chest proudly. “Wait till Moca gets wind of this!”

Rimi giggles along with her. It’s almost like a sweet treat she can’t resist. Just one, just one more—till suddenly she’s gone, into a world of dripping chocolate and sticky candy apples, and there’s no going back. “I’m sure she’ll be impressed.”

“She better be!” Himari lunges for a handful of caramel corn and chews thoughtfully. “So if we’re both princes . . . does this mean I’ll see you in a suit?”

“Eh?”

Himari nudges her knowingly, deliberately. There’s a focused intensity in her gaze that could rival Ran’s. “ _Suits_. You know what I’m talking about. You _know_.”

“D-Do I?”

“You do, you do!” Himari leans in close, clearly just carried away by enthusiasm and not intending anything at all, but Rimi’s breath gets lost somewhere between her lips and her lungs all the same. “Suits. Girls. Girls in suits! You know what I’m saying?”

“Oh!”

“Yes! Like, guys in suits, wow. But _girls_ in suits—” After a failed attempt to find words that grasp the sheer magnitude of what she’s trying to express, Himari lets out a long, dreamy sigh, hands clasped in front of her as though in prayer.

“I get it! I really do!” Rimi almost squeals. “Wait—you want to see—m-me? In a suit?” The realisation hits her too late.

“That would be the _dream_.”

“B-But—” Uh-oh. Now her imagination’s running wild. Possessed by a sudden urge to see what Himari looks like in what Kaoru usually wears, Rimi does an abrupt and rather alarming one-eighty. “How about we try some on then? Together?”

Himari’s smile is adorably goofy, stained blue from the candy she’s popped into her mouth. “Now you’re talking.”


End file.
